


1860

by EilidhNiBhan



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 02:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EilidhNiBhan/pseuds/EilidhNiBhan
Summary: The year is 1860, the opium flow from the east has brought the west to the point of civil war and now former allies nip at each others throats. The Monarchy are desperate to avoid conflict between their states and revive a war only recently laid to rest so sign the Treaty of Peking and agree to remove the rotten heart that fuels this overflow of filth into their lands together. Balamb and Galbadia invade Wutai to put down the opium trade and in so doing uncover a plot to undermine the very foundations on which their nations were built - trust. So the honour of the two nations is left to two headstrong young men to restore, one a stubborn unsympathetic narcissist, and the other an arrogant, womanizing usurer.





	1. Prologue

My Dearest Caroline,

I hope you are well.

How are things at home? I hear that Father has come into a lot of money as a result of the war. I wish that all his ventures went so well, Hyne above knows we need the capital, I only regret that his success has been in the blood of our brothers in Wutai. Thank goodness it was a quick war. We had scarcely cleared the Yume no Wan (Bay of Dreams) before word came that it was over already.

They say that the Eien no Niwa (Eternal Gardens) were razed to the ground and that this is what prompted the Shogunate to surrender. It is such a shame, I visited the Eien no Niwa when I first arrived; they were the most magnificent display of horticultural variety I have ever laid eyes on. Walking among the cherry blossoms and the lotus, the tall reeds and the snow white Wisteria was like walking in the garden of Eden itself. Such calm, I am in no doubt of why they are called the Eternal Gardens, their majesty dwarfed even the gardens at Balamb Castle and that is no mean feat! Though I suppose you will simply have to take my word for it now...

Our ship will be rounding the peninsula at Centra's southern point soon. I believe there is a port just north along the coast where we will stop to take on water, but then the Captain assures me we will make a straight line for Balamb and home.

Oh, how I long to see your face, my dearest sister, and tell you tales about the land of the rising sun. There are things there you would never believe. Remind me when I get home to tell you the tale of the rabbit demon and the scholar, it's so sweet that I'm sure you will love it!

Give my love to our Mother and Father. Hyne be with us.

Your sister,

Quistis.


	2. Chapter 1

Night had already fallen by the time The Aurora arrived in Balamb's harbor and a light mist was rolling in off the salt water, curling around the alley ways and giving the lamp lights an eery glow. The port was almost empty at this hour, only a few warehouse guards stood stalwartly over their posts while rats scurried through the shadows.

Quistis pulled the collar of her coat tighter about her throat as she prepared to disembark. She was sure her sister at the least would have prepared a carriage, or even a cab to fetch her from the port, but all Quistis could see was the young Harbour Master's assistant standing with a lantern in his hand.

The sailors efficiently docked the ship and secured the gangplank so that their passenger could disembark. Grateful for her sound journey Quistis nodded her thanks to the Captain, who gave her a smile. He was a tall wiry man with a thin, whiskered face, pockmarked and raw from the lashing salt water, but he had been friendly and warm through their voyage. But his smile was thin, guilty.  


"My Lady Trepe," Said the Harbor Master's assistant as she stepped off the gang plank, "I trust you had a pleasant journey?"  


"Yes, thank you," She nodded, "It was very quiet."

"Thank goodness," Said the assistant, "There have been so few ships from Wutai since the war. It is surely a relief that you arrived without trouble. Your father has asked us to prepare a carriage for you on your arrival, if you like to wait in my office I will bring it round at once." He gestured to the only building on the dock with any light. It was a small brick building with a small black sign on which was painted the word "Balamb".

"That's very kind of you, thank you." Quistis nodded and allowed herself to be lead into the office. The assistant settled her on a chair and then disappeared to fetch the carriage. Looking around it was clear the place had never been cleaned. There were cobwebs everywhere and dust on every surface. There was a small, incredibly black fireplace on one wall and beside it an equally black bucket and coal scuttle. The stone floor was a similar colour, its only saviour being the foot traffic that carried rain water in and the soot back out. If not for that then perhaps the floor would have been the same colour as the fireplace. And the wall. There were cracks everywhere and small piles of debris graced the foot of the wall at surprisingly regular intervals. If the squalid little room she was perched in had been painted once upon a time it might have fared better against the ages. But as it was it was all red brick and timber. Quistis tried not to breathe too deeply either. This did not live up to her expectations of cleanliness and she tried hard not to think of the stains on the cushion the assistant had found her so rest her back against. Needless to say she was sat up straight anyway so there was no danger of catching anything from it. 

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Quistis said, standing up as the door opened. The Harbor Master's assistant entered, but he was not alone. Three members of the town guard had followed him, all tall and well muscled. The expressions on their faces were not at all reassuring. Quistis looked at the assistant, "May I ask-"

"You are Quistis Trepe?" She was interrupted.

"_Baronness_ Quistis Trepe."

"Good, you're coming with us."

She frowned, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You're under arrest." Said the foremost guard. He was clearly in charge and stood a head taller than the ones at his rear.

'Under arrest?!' "For what?"

"Treason."

"I-" She blinked. Treason?

"Now come with us, Baronness, nicely, or we'll drag you out." The guard growled, his expression menacing.

Indisposed to the idea of being dragged outside, Quistis went willingly, but she made sure to give the Harbor Master's assistant a cold look as she passed. He, for his part, didn't look even mildly abashed, unlike the Captain. Her expression and mood only soured as she was handcuffed and loaded into the back of a wooden wagon with bars on the doors. There was nowhere to sit so she was forced to sit on the floor. Her belongings were loaded onto another wagon, but it disappeared off somewhere else while she and her guards rattled off in the direction of Balamb Castle and the dungeons.

Balamb Castle sat on the top of a hill overlooking the town and the port below. It was built in the later stage of the 16th Century as a home for the local Lord, but in the 18th Century it had been renovated into a star fort to protect Balamb, which had by this point become the trading focal point of the western world and the namesake of the isle on which it sat. It boasted 6 ballistae, 35 cannons and an impressive gunpowder cache. It was currently the home of the de facto ruler of Balamb although the official capitol of the country was Balamb Garden, some 30 miles inland. As the home of the Monarch it was decorated in the richest fashion and the land surrounding the fort walls had been given over to gardens and tournament grounds. To reach the castle meant driving through all of this. The most striking feather of the castle however was the dungeon. It was a vast underground prison, the inhabitants of which were the nation's worst and basest criminals, though to Quistis's eyes the cells were mostly empty.

She was led down a well lit corridor lined on either side by empty cells and was eventually put into one at the very end. It was bigger than the rest with a wooden bed and a table on which to eat her meals, if she was given any, and a detestable little wooden bucket in the corner. This was how she was expected to live? She looked about at the dust and the cobwebs and her hands which were still shackled and the bucket and listened to the footsteps of the guards as they walked away. Then, when she was entirely alone she sat down on the bed and lent her head in her hands.

Treason, eh? 

Three days later she was fetched from her cell, still smelling like sea salt and now of old sweat and her own dirt. Her hat and coat had been taken from her on the second morning so now she was being lead about on the end of a chain in nothing but her blouse and skirts. It was October and the weather had already turned cold, she shivered as she was lead from the dungeon across the parade ground and into the Castle proper. They went upstairs and along a corridor to the right and then knocked on a door.

"Come in."

Quistis blanched at the sight that greeted her. Her once sweetheart, now the commander of Balamb's military force, Earl Squall Lionhart, was sat at a desk covered in papers, his hands clasped in front of him and looking at her with no less than the utmost disdain.  


"Squall, I-!"

"Be quiet." He said coolly, "You will answer my questions and then you will be returned to your cell."

"Come now, Squall," She pleaded, giving him a hopeful smile, "You don't really believe I've committed some act of treason, do you?" She laughed nervously, but her hope died at the look on his face. There was not an iota of friendship in his eyes at all.

"Inciting and facilitating a war is treason, Baronness."

Inciting a war?! What on Gaia was he talking about? "I-I don't know what you're talking about..." She said.

"Your Father was found in possession of copious amounts of Wutian opium with records of sale in Balamb and on the Galbadian continent."

"What?! My Father is not a drug dealer, he's-!"

"We found records of weapon distribution to the Shogunate and transactions paid in Wutian yen along with copies of letters to his contacts in Wutai."

"What weapons...?"

"Rifles, gun powder, mortars. The very same pistol you had in your purse."

"That is for protection!" She growled.

"A likely story." He said, dismissively, shuffling his papers about and picking up a quill. "Tell me, where did your father stash the yen?"

"I told you, I don't know what you're talking about."

"The 16,000 yen your father was paid for shipping weapons to Wutai. Where is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She repeated herself, "I don't know anything about any of this! My Father would never betray the King, he would never run guns for the Shogunate!"

"Then what were you doing in Wutai?" Squall asked.

"I was taking a cultural exchange." She said, dumbfounded.

"Or an exchange of weaponry."

"No!"

"We found these letters in your baggage." Squall said, flipping the corner of a few of the letters on his desk. "From your father to the Shinsengumi, the Yakuza, even the Shogun himself, and vice versa. All of them penned by his own hand and one or two are even penned by you."

Her jaw dropped.

"You can continue your charade of ignorance if you like, Baronness, but the game is up."

"Squall! No!" She shook her head and took a step, but was instantly restrained by her guards, "I have no idea what you're talking about! Yes I wrote a few letters to my father's friends, but only because I had been invited to their homes!"

"To trade secrets."

"To trade pleasantries and witticism! I don't know what you're talking about; guns; yen - I've never seen any yen in my father's hands at all!"

"Then what about his opium habit, where you as unaware of that as you claim as well?"

From the look in his eyes she could see that pleading her innocence, and she was entirely innocent, would get her nowhere. He had already decided her guilt long before she entered this office. Heck, he'd probably already decided her guilt before she'd set foot on dry land! The look on the Captain's face and the Harbor Master's assistant waiting for her the moment she stepped off the boat said it all.

"Where is my father?" She asked.

"Where he belongs."

"In his home then, I presume."

"Sarcasm is unbecoming on you." He narrowed his eyes.

"And yet cruelty seems to fit you quite well." She shot back.

"I am doing my duty for my country." Squall said coldly, "Which is more than can be said of your traitorous father." 

"Where is he?"

"In the dungeon, along with your mother and sister."

"I wish to see them."

"You don't get to make wishes." He said, reshuffling the papers and giving a signal to the guards to take her away, "Unless that wish is for the guillotine instead of a noose."

Ignoring the pallid colour of Quistis' skin as she was lead away, Squall scratched a note on the bottom of his page. Though his interrogation of Quistis had been entirely pointless and confirmed nothing he did not already know, he was confident enough that she was involved in her father's crimes. One more for the gallows.


	3. Chapter Two

8 days was all it took Squall Leonheart to resolve the matter surrounding the opium entry into Balamb's black market, from the initial reports of the Baron Trepe's involvement, to signing the paperwork condemning the entire family to be 'hung by the neck until dead'. They had a date with the gallows on October 18th. Tomorrow.

  
Squall was glad to have this business over and done with. It left a bad taste n his mouth, especially to think of how close he and the Trepe family had once been. Back then he had no idea that they were traitors to the crown, there hadn't been any sign of it. In fact, though they were no longer close, he had been downright skeptical of the anonymous tip off that Baron Trepe had been investing in terrorism and the drug trade. It was only after arresting the Baron, as was only right with such reports, that the evidence which mounted against him became irrefutable. The Baron had, of course, protested his innocence, but the evidence was all there and it put him at the centre of the circle of shady figures leading this country down a dark and dangerous path. War with the East was a terrible threat and, had it not been for the involvement of the larger, more powerful Galbadia then Balamb would surely have lost that military engagement. So if anything, by trading opium through Galbadia as well, Baron Trepe had almost saved the world. Which brought Squall on to another sour topic; Galbadia.

  
Being as they were also suffering at the hands of the Trepe 'cartel', Galbadia was also interested in seeing this sorry affair brought to a close, and so they had dispatched an envoy to witness the execution. It was a sour topic because the envoy they had selected was Squall's long time rival and most hatred adversary, Duke Seifer Almasy. He had a higher position in court peerage and liked to lord that over the Earl any chance he got. When they were younger they had both attended Balamb Garden College, a school for the noble and elite boys of the world's high society, and had competed in every event imaginable. Being in the same class as the intolerable Duke-in-training was a most unfair torture and since their entry into the ranks of the nobility Seifer's attitude at least had only worsened. The man considered himself to be Hyne's gift to woman (and some of the men) had wasn't happy until he had bragged his magnificence to everyone he could find. If there was someone who didn't agree then they were put on 'the list'.

  
Squall had been on 'the list' for as long as he could remember. It wasn't that bad, if he were honest. In fact, upon reflection it was probably better to be on the list than not on the list because at least if you were already on the list you could skip the introduction to Seifer's many 'graces' and get straight to the arguments, or sword practice. Seifer and Squall had been reasonably evenly matched in most things, the only area in which Seifer had the upper hand was sword play. His height and bigger built gave him a natural advantage over the Earl, who had now definitely stopped growing and so was unlikely every to bridge that gap.

  
Squall hated the idea that he would have to watch the execution with Seifer. His only hope now was that the oaf be late and Squall could be saved the indignity of having to indulge in 'conversation'.

  
As if in answer to Squall's prayers, Seifer was indeed late the next day. The execution had been scheduled for dawn, as was only proper, and just before dawn Seifer's ship could be seen arriving in the harbor from the castle walls. Squall nodded in satisfaction. Good, Seifer could be late, inspect the bodies to verify their identity later and satisfy Galbadia's requirements for justice to be served, then hop back on his ship and toddle off again in the direction of anywhere else. With any luck Squall wouldn't even have to see him.

  
Squall dressed warmly for the autumn weather and then went to take his place on the dais in the courtyard. A number of officials were already in attendance and were milling about waiting for the prisoners to be brought. The prisoners had been allowed to see each other at last and to say their goodbyes as they had been informed of their execution dates yesterday. At present they were gathered in 'the chamber', the cell in which prisoners spent their final night before their execution and from which they would be fetched just before dawn the morning of. Away from the main dungeon there were no beds in 'the chamber' and no lights, only a small window with iron bars to halt any escape and two benches which ran either side of the narrow room. Squall had wondered about the bars before but had decided that this must have been a strange sort of torture, allowing the condemned to see the first rays of sun rising on their very last morning. Now he preferred not to think of it.

  
As the sun's rays broke over the horizon the prisoners were led out of 'the chamber' and out to the temporary gallows which had been erected on the opposite side of the courtyard to the dais on which Squall stood. They had all been given cheap, rough clothing to wear to await the date and they looked unwashed and very pale. The three women had tear stained faces but Baron Trepe did not. He was every inch as pale and terrified as the others, but he at least had pride enough not to cry about a fate he had brought upon himself. Squall scowled. Traitors.

  
The prisoners were lead up to the four ropes that had been prepared for them and then had black sacks put over their heads. One of those present at the gallows was a priest of Hyne, who stood with his holy book and said a prayer before each of the condemned as the bags were put over their heads and fastened.

  
Just at that moment Squall felt a tickle behind his ear. And then he heard the sound of Seifer Almasy excusing his way through the crowd of officials.

"You made it." Squall said, mightily unimpressed.

  
"I can hear the joy in your voice." Seifer replied, his attention fixed on the people on the gallows. "This is the Trepe family then."

"Mm."

"Is it the whole family?"

"Yes."

Silence overtook the crowd as the hangman prepared to drop the first prisoner, Baron Trepe. The priest finished his prayer. The hangman pulled the lever that activated the trap door beneath Baron Trepe's feet and the man dropped. Though he stopped suddenly and the fall had expertly separated his skull from his neck he bucked on the end of his rope like a fish on the end of a line. The three remaining Trepe's shook with emotion.

"When are the executions of the conspirators?" Seifer asked, narrowing his eyes at Baron Trepe's dead body. The hangman pulled the level for Baronness Trepe's trapdoor and she went to join her husband.

"You're watching them." Squall drawled.

"But this is just one family."

"These are his conspirators. His family were the ones carrying letters in his name and striking the deals with his buyers."

"But who were his buyers?"

"We don't know."

"And you didn't want to find out before you popped off our only leads?"

"We interrogated the Baron intensely and he wouldn't give any information away." The Baroness Caroline Trepe disappeared through her trapdoor with a shriek that was cut abruptly short. Quistis turned her bagged head skyward and sucked in a visible breath, before shaking her head vigorously, shoulders shaking.

"But one of his family members might." Seifer ground out. "You haven't investigated properly. You're an idiot." He looked up to see the hangman reaching for the remaining lever. Making an executive decision, he held up his hand. "STOP!"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Squall snapped at the Duke, glaring.

"Continuing my investigation and stopping you from ruining any progress Galbadia might have made in identifying the leaders of the opium cartel." Seifer said, stepping off the dais and making to cross the courtyard.

Squall followed him, enraged at Seifer's apparent calm just as much as his public announcement to everyone present that Squall hadn't finished the job. Humiliating! "This is the leadership of the opium-"

"This is a single family, Earl Leonheart. We are looking for the ringleaders of a trade which covers at least three major continents, I don't believe that 1 man acting on his own is capable of running an organisation like that and I'm sure the Queen would agree."

"It wasn't one man, it's four people."

"Two of whom were young socialite women and the other was an old friend of the Queen." They mounted the steps of the gallows and climbed to the top. Seifer addressed the hangman, "Her sentence has been suspended."

"It has not been suspended!" Squall snapped, daring the hangman to remove the rope from around Quistis' neck. Quistis was now looking about inside the bag with increasingly violent movements, calling out for her family members in a cracking voice in case they too had survived, although she knew there was no way that could be true.

"It has been suspended until I have decided the investigation is complete."

"The sentence has been stamped with the seal of the King." Squall said firmly.

"Whereas it should have been stamped with the seal of an Earl." Seifer snapped, "You did a piss poor job of tracking down any other involvement and now you want to run out the only possibility we have of rescuing this fascicle affair! We were charged by the King and Queen to hunt down the source of this thing and to stop it. Are you really stupid enough to think that you've resolved the matter by finishing off a single family? Or are you looking to be labelled a traitor yourself?"

"What are you talking about?" Squall asked grimly. A traitor himself? What was the Duke talking about?

"C-Caroline..."

Quistis drew the men's attention. The hangman had removed the rope and bag from Quistis' neck while the Earl and Duke had been arguing and now Quistis had a perfectly good view down through the hole on her right to the corpse of her beloved sister, rotating slowly. Tears were streaming down the young woman's face as she beheld her family's fate. "Caroline." She repeated and sobbed again.  
Taking some small degree of pity on her, Seifer waved the guards over and gave them the order to take her back to her cell in the dungeon.

Squall asked again as they stepped aside to allow the guards and their prisoner passed. "What are you talking about?"

"A speedy execution to cover up any lose ends and stop anyone else from really sorting out the mess." Seifer said, matter-o-factly, much happier now he had one and retained one of the prisoners to question, "There's already some conjecture about your methods at the Galbadian court. They say you're covering up for your old friend, made and agreement to let his friends go free."

Squall scoffed, "If I was going to do that I wouldn't have executed his family."

"And yet you signed the papers confirming them to be co-conspirators in the Baron's plot. So if you let them go free after doing all of that it would be too obvious. You had to have them killed to keep up with your story."

Silence had often been Squall's friend. It signified that whatever rumors or comments he was up against were so ridiculous as to not even be worth his precious time dignifying them with a response. It was his old reliable fall back. Silence.

Except now silence seemed to be doing the opposite. If he stayed silent against such accusations then the Duke was right, he would be putting himself, and leaving himself, in the firing line and would most likely be branded a traitor for too long. Damn him for being so efficient! Perhaps if Squall had taken longer to crack the case then he wouldn't be in this position... He made a mental note to take a holiday in the middle of his next investigation and then rolled his eyes. Whatever.

"Fine. Keep her alive and see what you can get out of her and when its nothing you can put her back on the gallows and trip the trap yourself." He said, resigning himself to giving up for now. If Almasy wanted to take it on and prove Squall right then who was he to stop him? Fire away, good sir, keep digging! All it would take to clear Squall's name would be to allow Almasy to sully his own.

* * *

Barely able to breathe, Quistis fell to the floor of her cell the moment she was released by the guard. She sobbed. Thoughts like 'how could this have happened?' and 'they're dead' and 'I don't want to live anymore' ran around her mind all the way from the gallows to her cell in the dungeon, its cold emptiness welcoming her back like a morbid parent welcoming back a lost child. By the time they had reached the cell the cries exiting Quistis' body had reached such force that she could barely support herself and if it weren't for the guards on either side she may have been dragging along the floor. She covered her face with her hands and wept loudly and uncontrollably. It was several minutes until she regained the ability to breathe steadily and hiccuped instead. After a brief few seconds of calm she burst into tears again and cried so hard she felt sick and wretched, but her stomach was empty so all she received was bile, which she spat onto the floor before sucking in a deep breath and beginning to cry anew.

This process repeated well into the afternoon and by the time she received a visitor, the man who had halted the execution, she was exhausted. Her eyes were red and her nose was raw, her throat parched and her head was pounding from the fluid loss. She had not moved far from the spot the guards had abandoned her in that morning, her back to the door.

He cleared his throat. "Quistis Trepe, I stopped your execution because I believe you may have valuable information about your father's contacts in the drug market. If you share the information you've got we will reconsider your penalty."

She turned her head slightly, the movement making her head ache. "I don't know anything." She mumbled wearily.

"You were in touch with your father's contacts in the East. You might have had contact with his friends in the West as well."

"My father had friends," She started, then coughed against the wall of phlegm that had built up in her crying, "But they weren't drugs people. I don't know anyone like that." She trailed off.

She didn't want to talk about this. She wanted to die. She had expected to die this morning and although the loss of her family members, especially the murder of her innocent younger sister, had broken her heart, she had consoled herself with the idea that she would join them soon and they would be reunited in heaven. To be forced to stay here was worse than being put to death. "Why did you keep me alive?" She croaked.

"To interrogate-"

"Squall already- _Earl Leonheart_ already did."

Behind her, Seifer shook his head. Earl Leonheart had made himself rather unpopular in all circles recently, which was a dramatic change of pace as it was usually Seifer who was considered the most untrustworthy. He didn't blame this poor girl, and that was exactly what Seifer considered her to be whether she was complicit in her father's crimes or not, for hating Squall. They had been engaged at some point or other, or so Seifer had heard, and from the information Squall had shared with him that morning there was very little evidence to tie Quistis Trepe to the opium or guns trading directly. From a preliminary assessment Seifer thought Quistis was more of an unwitting accomplice than a full blown traitor, although her involvement at all made her guilty. But it might also prove to be the key to her salvation.

"Earl Leonheart missed some fundamental points in your questioning," He began, but was cut off by a short, wet laugh. He frowned, he didn't much like being cut off, when he spoke people listened.

"Thumb screws and gouging out eyes is a fundamental point of questioning is it? Are you sure I'm the traitor here? As far as I am concerned, what you committed today was nothing short of murder, you and Earl Leonheart together. My family were innocent and you killed them." She ground out the last sentence, her lip curling in the flickering torch light that barely made it into her cell.

"Your family broke the law." He countered. "You father in particular dealt in treachery and lies." She scoffed but he continued, un-amused. "You cannot pardon a man for selling weapons to murder his own countrymen, so you can protest the injustice of their execution all you like, but it will not change what your family did. I am giving you an opportunity to help-"

"To 'help'?!" She turned, struggling to stand on stiff legs, "Why on Gaia would I want to 'help' the men who destroyed my life and killed a most beloved sister?!"

"You destroyed your own life." Seifer shot back. She had hold of the bars on her cell now and in the low light she looked a mess, the very epitome of a ruined soul. "Don't try to feign virtue, you and your beloved sister were in the thick of it!"

"I had no idea!" She shrieked, glowering at him, "I had no idea and I still have no idea! My family would never-!"

"Your father sold guns to the Shogunate!" Seifer finally shouted, making the guards at the end of the hall jump. He growled low in his throat before making a very undignified sound and pinching at the bridge of his nose. He'd never been good at negotiations and this was turning out to be just another example of why he was the worst pick for an envoy, emmisary, or any kind of political or diplomatic position.

"He would never-" She tried again.

"Well he did." Seifer cut her off, sharply. "Look, I'm not interested in whether you think he did it or not, I'm interested in what you know about the people he was in contact with, so spare me the shit as if I was the one putting ropes around their necks."

"I will never help you." She said deliberately.

He rolled his eyes. He was getting nowhere. "Fine."


	4. Chapter Three

Squall watched Seifer as he stomped about the office, cursing under his breath and casting menacing, contemplative glances in the direction of a house of cards Squall had completed earlier while waiting for the boorish Duke to shut up complaining about how ungrateful a prisoner Quistis was and what a waste of a good rope, etc. The Earl felt a mixture of delight at Seifer's failure, bemusement, and disappointment. On the one hand he was glad that Seifer had struggled, for if he had not he might have made Squall look less competent, but on the other hand the fact the Seifer had not succeeded in striking a deal with the disgraced Baroness only meant they had to deal with each other longer. The bemusement, well that was only because the events of that afternoon were not at all a surprise.

  
"Ready to give up?" Squall asked, sorting through a stack of plans on his desk and taking out the one labelled 'Negotiate Information from the Prisoner' which had on it a lot of questions and different points they needed clarification on, and tearing it up.

"Hell no we're not." Seifer stopped his stomping about to give Squall an indignant look, "We are not being beaten by a woman!"

"What do you intend to do about it then?" Squall asked calmly. As this was Seifer's idea, and as the Duke had so rudely interrupted Squall's executions, the Earl had absolutely no intentions of lending anything even remotely helpful to the further investigations.If this was a cross Seifer wished to bear then he would do it on his own.

The Duke threw himself down in an armchair, thinking. Squall watched him. Despite his misgivings he had to admit that Seifer was a remarkably intelligent person - he'd won round more than enough ladies of the court who had previously professed to strongly disliking him to be called 'crafty' at the very least. He was also an excellent strategist. It made him a tricky adversary and an excellent military commander. He was just absolutely terrible at playing by the rules, which is why the execution order meant nothing as it was crushed beneath his boot and why they were considering joining forces with the enemy to mop up any stragglers Squall might have missed. Squall was sure these stragglers would be perfectly capable of popping themselves off sooner or later without any additional effort on his or Seifer's part, but the meddlesome Duke was not of the same mind. After some time Seifer stood back up and began to pace until his thinking had subsided.

There was no point in applying to Quistis' 'better nature', she was too angry about the execution to agree to do anything out of the goodness of her own heart. He needed to think of something she wanted, like a carrot and stick scenario, but what? The freedom and safety of her family would have been a good place to start, if the buffoon sat in the corner shuffling papers about hadn't bumped them off like old turnips down a rubbish tip. Something she wanted.... What would she want?

Five days later and Seifer had made no progress at all in the investigation, although he now fervently hoped he had made a little more progress in conjuring up an irresistible treat to coax Quistis into agreeing a deal following a visit to her old home.

_The Trepe mansion was a large elegant house with plenty of rooms, three wings, a library on both floors, two staircases for the family to use, a plethora of staircases, corridors and cubbies for servants to use, beautiful sprawling gardens and a long gravel driveway that led the way between two rows of squat little oak trees. Walking around in it Seifer got the impression that this was a beloved home for the family and there must have been a lot of happy memories for Quistis in this house. It was a little worn here and there, but well loved. The place was mostly empty now that the family was gone, but the housekeeper remained. She was a graceful woman with half-moon spectacles and black hair pulled back into a tight chignon bun. She was not at all happy to greet Seifer and had at first denied him entry to the place saying she had had enough of people disgracing the master's memory by tearing his precious home apart to search for more things with which to smite him. However, on hearing that the eldest of the daughters was still alive and had in fact been saved by Seifer himself, she was markedly less prickly, although she did not allowed him to walk around the house by himself and followed him from room to room._

_As Seifer searched he asked the housekeeper questions about the family, what they were like, what Quistis was like and what sort of things did she enjoy doing. The housekeeper waxed lyrical about what good, kind, sweet girls the Trepe sisters were and what an unHynely shame it was that the youngest had been killed and how Quistis' heart would surely be breaking for the loss of her sister and how unjust their execution was. It was very unjust indeed._

_Seifer was not as convinced at the housekeeper given the letters the two girls had been found in possession of, but the housekeepers allegiance gave Seifer an idea._

_"Would you like to visit the Baroness?" He asked casually, examining a box of odds and ends on a dresser in the master's bedroom._

_"Well of course I would..." The housekeeper said, fussing with a handkerchief and mopping at her eyes. She had become tearful thinking about the girls. "But how am I to visit her in that terrible place?"_

_"I could let you in." He said, fishing out a ring from the box and turning it over. 'Trepe - 1839'._

_"Why would you do that?" She asked, suspicious._

_"Like you said," he glanced at her for a moment, registering the expression of doubt before going back to rummaging in the box. "She's heartbroken. I am not a monster, even I am moved by a young lady's tears." _

_"Well." The housekeeper huffed and fiddled with the handkerchief, considering the statement._

_"If you think you want to see her let me know, I'll make sure the guards let you in, although she won't be able to leave and you will need to follow any instructions to leave you are given." He closed the box and moved on to the drawers in the Baroness's dressing table. There were only hat pins and ornaments in here, nothing more sinister than a phial of smelling salts. "You won't be able to bring anything to her either." He opened a cupboard which turned out to be a servant's passage. "Where does this go?"_

_"To the scullery. Will you keep your word and allow me to see her?" The housekeeper was frowning again. "I thought you had all sentenced her to death."_

_"I always keep my word," Seifer said, stepping through the cupboard and setting off to the scullery._

This had all happened 2 days ago and although at the time Seifer had been reasonably sure that the housekeeper would agree to visit Quistis he had heard nothing from her since so now he was beginning to sweat. This morning he had just about given up hope of the housekeeper ever leaving the mansion, but just as he was setting down to breakfast at the inn he had taken a room in there was a knock on his door and one of the maids entered. She dipped a curtsy.

"Excuse me, Sir, but there is a woman here to see you."

"Show her in," Seifer said, picking up his napkin and covering his lap, taking the opinion that whoever it was had better not expect to interrupt his breakfast and still be greeted with a bow. This attitude changed dramatically however when the Trepes' housekeeper appeared. Eager to secure her assistance with his plan Seifer leapt up to greet her. "Mrs Kramer, how good of you to come at last, I presume you 're here to visit the Baroness?"

"I am." She confirmed, then spied the laden table, "Oh, I'm sorry, My Lord," She held her hand to her face in embarrassment, "I didn't mean to interrupt your meal."

"No don't worry about it, a few potatoes nothing more, let us go at once to see the Baroness." He waved off her concern, doing his level best to appear as a courteous Duke, the very epitome of manners and elocution. Winning her co-operation was far more important than some meat and potatoes!

He took up his hat, coat and cane and they departed, arriving at the castle some 45 minutes later and making their way through to the dungeons. Mrs Kramer shuddered on the walk down through the dark staircases and muttered beneath her breath about how horrid it was to be so far underground. Privately Seifer agreed. He'd spent his fair share of time confined for punishment, but thanks to his social status - and never having actually commited treason before - his time had been largely spent locked in his quarters in the boarding house on the school campus, or locked in his bedroom in the palace in Deling, both of which were perfectly comfortable arrangements. He had however been thrown into the gaol in Timber when he was serving his time with the Galbadian military and had even been forced to see to the latrines, but only once.

"We are almost there." Seifer said as they lit upon Quistis' level. Mrs Kramer nodded.

Quistis had, at some point over the week, taken to praying and when the Duke and housekeeper arrived she was knelt by the bed, elbows on the hard wooden frame (Squall had decided the removal of the mattress might make her more amenable to their demands) hands clasped and eyes shut. Mrs Kramer gasped at the sight of her. Quistis' long golden hair had become knotted and filthy, sticking to her head and hanging in clumps around her face. It had been pulled back into a ponytail for the execution and was now only barely tied back with a short piece of string. Her rough white tunic was yellow around the arms and hem and a light brown everywhere else. The bucket in the corner set a powerful stench on the air that had Mrs Kramer cover her nose with her handkerchief.

"Oh Hyne above," Mrs Kramer uttered an oath under her breath.

Familiar to the voice Quistis opened her eyes. Upon seeing her visitor she seemed surprised and asked, "Mrs Kramer?"

"Oh my girl!" Mrs Kramer cried, rushing to the bars and reaching through them. Quistis only stared at her, as though not really believing what she was seeing. But then a moment later she woke up and leapt to her feet.

"Oh, Mrs Kramer!" She cried, falling into the woman's arms.

"Oh, my girl! My dear, sweet girl! This is awful! How could this have happened to you?!" Mrs Kramer cried, clasping Quistis' shoulders and dragging her into an awkward hug around the bars. Quistis buried her face in the taller woman's shoulder, then withdrew and scrubbed a hand across her eyes which had begun to water. The housekeeper offered up her handkerchief so that the Baroness could mop them easier.

"Daddy is not a traitor," She was eager to protest her family's innocence, "He would never have betrayed the King like this."

Mrs Kramer, who had been present at the house when the Trepe family had been detained shook her head. She had seen a number of incriminating documents being removed from the house and had sat through a number of interviews with the Earl in which evidence had been presented, so at this point, although she still loved her master and his wife and daughters fiercely, she was not so inclined to believe him entirely innocent. "But the evidence, my dear-"

"But what evidence?" Quistis complained, sniffling and giving the housekeeper a doleful look. "All I've been told is that there were letters and a lot of money! But what has any of that to do with my mother and sister? Or me?"

"I know, I know," Mrs Kramer comforted her, "Hush now pet, I know it seems very unfair. And so cruel of them to keep you in such a state!" She looked about the cell with an expression of absolute disdain, a noble lady should never even see such conditions, let alone be kept in them. She turned to the Duke who had been observing them from some distance. "My Lord, can't you do something about this?"

Seifer looked at Quistis, who shot him a black look. She didn't seem to have registered his presence until now and her countenance around Mrs Kramer had been markedly different. After all, with her family dead this woman, who had been almost like family for all the girl's life, was the only one still alive who still cared for her. She clearly drew great comfort from that as the snarling wildcat from a few days before was far away from the dewy-eyed kitten that stood before him.

"I'm afraid this is the Baroness's punishment, Mrs Kramer." He said calmly.

"But," Mrs Kramer looked around the cell again, and at Quistis, "There are no blankets on this bed, and no change of clothes! Can she at least not have a bath?"

"The Baroness can have whatever she wants, but she has already declined all such offers."

Mrs Kramer looked back to Quistis, who was fixing the Duke with her darkest glower. "Your offer came at the price of my family's reputation." She spat, fingers tightening in Mrs Kramer's sleeves which she had still not let go of.

"Your family's reputation is already in tatters, Baroness, what I was offering you was a chance to better your own position and recover from some of the damage you had already done." Quistis snorted, he continued. "All you need to do is co-operate and provide us with the names of your Father's contacts in the drugs trade."

"But My Lady wouldn't know any of that," It was Mrs Kramer's turn to scoff now, "The Ladies of the house never had anything to do with the Master's business dealings!"

"And yet we were executed for it anyway." Quistis finished darkly.

Seifer bit back a retort, reminding himself that he was trying to broker a deal here and that impatience, or rudeness in front of either women would most certainly put paid to any hopes he had of assuring their assistance. His desperation helped him keep his temper in check.

"We have already established that the letters in your possession helped secure a financial settlement for the weapons your father proposed shipping to the orient." He said firmly. Mrs Kramer gave Quistis a dubious look, but Quistis' expression only stiffened in defense. "You have already been declared guilty of conspiring to incite rebellion against the Balambian and Galbadian forces settling in Wutai, whether that is what you believed you were doing or not." He took a calming breath and forged onward, "These crimes cannot simply be dismissed, however, you can begin to repair some of the damage your family has done. In assisting us with our investigation you can restore some of your good character and maybe even save the souls of your mother and sister from damnation as well."

She gave him a calculating look. He threw in a little more to sweeten the deal. "I'll even treat you to a bath too."

"Every night."

He raised an eyebrow. Oh? She was interested. "We will see."

"And real clothes." Mrs Kramer said, "And better food, she's thin as a rake!"

The Baroness was indeed 'thin as a rake'. She had been slender before, but was now most definitely thin and her skin had taken on a sallow appearance. Was the Earl docking her rations now as well?

"We will see." Seifer repeated, "The Baroness must agree first."

The Duke and housekeeper watched Quistis carefully. She looked the Duke in the eyes, trying to decide if she could trust him to keep his word, or if she was just giving away her information for free, like a tart in the town square with her ankles on show. Mrs Kramer gave her an encouraging smile.

"There's nothing worse that can happen in agreeing, my dear."

This was true, the worst had already happened, but Quistis just... "I can't."

"Why not?" Mrs Kramer asked.

"I can't!" Quistis repeated, releasing her grip on the older woman's clothing at last and withdrawing into the cell. She waved her arms in exasperation for the situation, "I simply will not help the man who sentenced by family to death! There's nothing that can tempt me!"

"Lest you forget," Seifer interjected, "It was not I who sentenced them."

"But if I helped you I would be helping him, wouldn't I?!" She cried.

"Dear..." Mrs Kramer tried.

"I can't believe he did this! I can't believe he killed them! We were like family!" She whirled around to face the pair again, "He didn't even listen to me! He just-" She waved her hand dramatically, "-waved me away! Threw me away like I didn't matter, like I deserved to die! Caroline didn't deserve to die - none of us did - but he just gave the order, he didn't investigate, or talk to us, he didn't even give us a chance!"

"I am giving you a chance." Seifer said.

"Well it's too late now!" She snapped at him.

"My Lady!" Mrs Kramer reproached her, aghast at the turn of her countenance. Quistis would never have spoken rudely to a person before and certainly not a Duke!

"It's alright," Seifer said, holding up his hand diplomatically to placate the housekeeper. "She has every right to be angry. To be honest with you I'm not too impressed with Earl Leonheart myself, he acted too rashly and executed the family before the investigation could be completed."

"Then you do not believe they were guilty?" Mrs Kramer probed.

"I believe that Baron Trepe..." He paused, choosing his words carefully, "...Did the wrong thing." Quistis and Mrs Kramer looked at him. In the absence of any complaints he continued, "I believe he was involved in the sale of weaponry to the East and I believe he was involved in bringing opium into the West. However heavy his involvement in this business was I cannot say and whether he deserved the fate that befell him... I don't know."

"If you don't believe that we were guilty," Quistis asked, choosing to take Seifer's words as a sign of his disagreement with her family's indictment, "Then why do you still care so much about interrogating me?"

"Because I have been charged by the King and Queen to expose those threatening the peace of our two nations." Seeing that this was a little too vague for the two woman before him, he elaborated. "The opium trade and the people selling our own weapons to our enemies. What happened to you and your family is just the tip of the ice-burg, Baroness. There are more out there still who would see this unity of ours crumble and I think that you are the key to tracking them down."

"So they can be killed too..."

"Don't feel pity for them, Baroness. They led your father down this path quite happily, but they still let him swing in the end. They don't deserve to be covered for, or rescued by you." He cautioned. She was thinking again, looking about the floor and walls of the dingy corridor. He didn't dare to hold his breath. "Help me to find them, restore your family's honour, and I will petition to have your charges revised."

She pursed her lips, honestly thinking. After a minute or two of silence Seifer had an idea, something to help her to trust his... sincerity.

"Think about it," He said, breaking the two women's concentration, "I will have a bath run for you and prepare a change of clothes. You can tell me your decision after."

He bade Mrs Kramer to come with him and together they exited the dungeon and went into the castle proper. A bath was run in one of the bathrooms and a change of clothes was prepared - nothing more fancy than an old dress donated by one of the more sympathetic maids - and then Quistis was sent for. She arrived at the end of a chain, escorted by three guards, who Mrs Kramer regarded very poorly.

"That won't be necessary!" She stated firmly when they suggested that they too should enter the bathroom and supervise 'proceedings'. "My Lady is still a young woman! 'Tis unheard of for men to oversee a young lady's bath!"

"Stay outside the door and ensure she doesn't leave." Was all Seifer could say. He had contemplated how to control the Baroness while she was left taking her bath, but Mrs Kramer had come to the rescue and offered herself up as a chaperon. With that there was nothing left to really worry about, and nothing more for the guards to do.

So the bathroom door clicked shut and Seifer went off to see about a mattress and blankets and something for the Baroness's dinner.

Inside the bathroom Quistis was at a loss. She allowed Mrs Kramer to undress her and settle her into the bath, but she felt... strange inside. Since that dreadful day she had spent her time intermittently weeping for her family and praying for their souls, believing without a doubt that her own death was only a few days away and she would eventually be reunited with her loved ones. She had wished for it even, wondering over and over why she had been saved. Was it some act of cruelty? A form of amusement for the Earl? She would never have credited him with such malice before but now she wasn't sure what to expect from. He hardly seemed like the person she knew at all. And as for the Duke? She didn't know what to make of him, although he had won Mrs Kramer round quite easily so just who or what was he? She supposed he must seem to be a good person. Unlike her these days...

She sighed into the bubbling bathwater and pulled her knees up to her chest. She hadn't been this warm in a long time and it felt good. "Don't fret, my darling," Mrs Kramer said soothingly, trying valiantly to get a comb through Quistis' long tangled hair. "It will all be right in the end."

"It can never be right again," Quistis mumbled, "They're gone..."

"I know, my sweet, I know."

They fell back into silence and after some time Mrs Kramer decided she was done and ordered Quistis to dunk beneath the water and wash the suds out of her hair. Now clean and fresh Quistis stepped out of the bath and into a fluffy white towel that Mrs Kramer offered up. Quistis did not feel at all shy around this woman, she had been with her since childhood so there was no reason to be.

Once Quistis was dry and dressed Mrs Kramer began to comb through her hair and fastened it into a low bun with one of the many bobby pins she always seemed to have about her person.

"There," Mrs Kramer said, "Much better."

And it was, in a way. Sitting in ones own grime for days at a time a definite way of bringing a person down and now that she was in better condition Quistis' mind had naturally turned to the task of considering how to tackle her situation. What little hopes she had summoned before her sentencing had disappeared on the wind, so she was back to square one. The only realistic solution that came to mind was the one the Duke presented, though she was loath to take it on account of the Earl.

Mrs Kramer, who had always been astute, gave her a reproving look. "Do not let your pride get in the way, My Lady."

"I'm not letting my pride get in the way." Quistis grumbled, although she was. That was exactly what the problem was, pride. Earl Leonheart had wronged her, most grievously, and so she was determined to spite him. The act of helping him after what he had done was simply unthinkable! And yet it seemed to be the only way she could ever hope to prove her loyalty to the crown. "I just... Hate him."

"I don't blame you." Mrs Kramer said bluntly, folding up the towel and regarding the old tunic with distaste. It would have to be burnt. "I'm surprised that he didn't try to defend you a little."

"Oh Mrs Kramer, he had very nearly signed the death warrant before I'd even stepped off the ship from Wutai."

Mrs Kramer shook her head. "I'm not sure what to tell you, my dear."

"You don't believe Father did it, do you?" Quistis asked unhappily. It sounded as though Mrs Kramer was not entirely convinced otherwise.

The housekeeper sighed and gave the Baroness a sad look. "I would hate to think that he did," She said at last, "But it does seem to be the case."

Quistis was horrified, "Then do you think that I- and Caroline-?!"

"No, no I do not." Mr Kramer said softly, stroking Quistis' cheek fondly, "The Master kept his business in the strictest confidence and wanted nothing more than for you girls to live a happy, carefree life. He would never involve you in anything of this nature, of that I have no doubt."

"But I don't even understand where these accusations could have come from!" Quistis complained, taking Mrs Kramer's hand from her face and holding it. "I've never heard anything about opium trading, or guns."

"When they came to the house to arrest your parents they said they had had an anonymous report."

"Anonymous..."

"It doesn't seem like even they were sure of what they would find."

"So somebody who knew about it sold Daddy out."

Mrs Kramer stayed quiet. Quistis paced, thinking again.

"It's not just my reputation I need to recover," She whispered, mostly to herself. Whoever this anonymous someone was they had purposefully wiped out an entire noble family. This wasn't just about loyalty to the crown else whoever it was would have been shouting it form the rooftops by now, this was about politics... And probably not 'above board' politics either. Was it related to the opium trade? Was her father really involved? Did someone want him gone because of his involvement? Why? And why did her mother and sister have to go too? And her? She tapped her chin as she paced. The only person she could think of who had a strong enough dislike towards her to sentence her to death was Squall but that was too obvious. Who else then? Someone she had offended in the past? A business partner of her father's perhaps? She remembered knocking the hat off of an old fat merchant who had come to her father to ask for her hand in marriage and had offered to buy her from him for 12 sheep... But that was years ago and was that really enough to kill someone for?

There was a knock at the door. Mrs Kramer went to answer. The Duke was outside.

"You look better," He said to Quistis, who merely scowled. "I've asked the castle cook to prepare you a meal. It will be brought to your cell when you are ready for it."

"Thank you, I suppose" Quistis said stiffly.

He nodded. 'Thank you' was certainly better than a poke in the eye.


	5. Chapter 4

1860 - Chapter 4.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Squall said quietly, watching his ‘partner’ pacing about in his office, “She’s a snake with a pretty face.”  
“Don’t worry, Darling, you’re far more beautiful.” Seifer responded, making Squall grimace, “And far more talkative besides.”  
“Remind me again why we bother to keep her…” Squall muttered mostly to himself and staring sullenly out of the window, the sill of which he was currently perched on.  
Seifer ignored him. It had been two weeks since their joint investigation started and three weeks since three of the four Trepe family members had been executed and as yet there had been next to no progress in the investigation. Squall had, at Seifer’s suggestion, had all of the paperwork from the Trepe manor which had been in the process of being inventoried for storage in the Balambian National Archive of Judicial Affairs evidence room brought back to the study for re-evaluation. Piles of it lay here or there and many hours had been spent pouring over it for the smallest details. Though he was loath to admit, having been through it with a fine toothed comb himself, Squall was unable to find any information which would help to answer either of two outstanding questions; who was the anonymous tipper who had to have been involved in order to provide the inside information; and what did Baron Trepe do with the money he gained? Seifer was also quick to point out that there was actually very little here which referenced the trading of opium, only the trading of guns and the names and details of certain individuals who had already been identified by their counterparts in Wutai as having been involved in the trade of weapons in the East.  
Speaking with Baroness Trepe had yielded very few results other than further protestations of her innocence and a slightly distracted glint in the Duke’s eyes. Squall, who had eyes in his head, was aware of the Baroness's startling beauty and knew what sort of effect it had on those who were not adequately acquainted with her to have been on the receiving end of her busy-body personality. Such a thing was usually enough to ruin the appeal entirely even before the cynicism and cutting remarks had made an appearance. It was something of a surprise therefore that the Duke - who had now witnessed all of the Baroness's darker sides - was not put off and only seemed to be drawn further in. Squall never thought he would see the day where he would be willingly giving Duke Almasy ‘helpful advice’ or displaying any form of concern for his well being but there had to be a first for everything. He comforted himself with the idea that he was only being helpful in order to save himself any embarrassment that might arise should the Duke fall for a criminal in an investigation to which Earl Leonhart’s name was put. His concern was not born of any genuine goodwill towards the Duke.  
Seifer puffed out his cheeks and flopped down in one of the room’s big padded armchairs and flapped a sheaf of papers in front of his face, tired eyes perusing it again desperately.  
“Well I don’t know what he did with the money.” He admitted at last, giving Squall a shake of his head. “I can’t see a single penny in these account ledgers which didn’t come from a trackable source. Even the weaponry is here which, while being idiotic and evidence of illegal exports, doesn’t prove he had anything to do with opium.”  
The income which the Baron had received in exchange for the weapons he had been selling to the Shogunate were recorded in the accounts ledger as ‘Sake’. This was not itself a prohibited item and so the trade of such a thing was not in itself suspicious. What made this stand out among the records was that sake was a product of the Shogunate and so they would have had no need to purchase such a thing from Balamb. The transaction would have been written backwards had sake really been being sold. That it wasn’t meant it had to be something else and that something else was explained in the letters and shipping documents which accompanied the account ledgers. Numerous letters to certain influential figures within the Shogunate Government referenced this sale being of ‘sake which had a superior quality to that manufactured locally in Wutai and if the Shogunate wanted to impress their gratitude for the ceasefire upon the Galbadian forces still occupying Wutian soil they should present them with a gift they would be more familiar with’. Shipping records detailing the size and weight of the containers including the number of units contained within each packet gave specifications too light to be litres upon litres of rice wine, besides which there were no rice fields on the Baron’s land in which to grow the stuff. However, Baron Trepe held a position in the judicial offices which allowed him access to a number of important documents within the Balambian Court which gave him the opportunity to forge the necessary signatures required on several orders of Balambian arms straight from the Royal Arms Manufacturers. The size and weight of the packets of arms along with the crates of ammunition matched precisely those specifications given for the shipments of ‘sake’ which were bound for sale to the East.  
This was the evidence which had convicted Baron Trepe of Treason and these were the letters which had been found in the possession of the young Baroness who was confined to the dungeon.  
It was not however the evidence which should have convicted the Baron and his family of drug trafficking. There was nothing in the paperwork which Seifer held in his hand which supported the anonymous tip off that the Baron had been trading opium from East to West which - given this was what Seifer and Squall had been tasked with uncovering - was something of a problem. Yes, discovering the gun running was nice, but because it was not an issue they were even aware of having existed prior to the Baron’s arrest it was merely a bonus to the main event.  
Seifer puffed out his cheeks again and looked at Squall haplessly. When the latter did and said nothing the Duke slapped down his papers on the nearest table and got to his feet with a huff. “Fat lot of help you’re being!” He shot as he snatched up his jacket and stalked out of the room.  
To Seifer it seemed as though Squall had given up the chase, or was taking the opinion that if he didn’t help with Seifer’s investigation then Seifer would eventually give up as well and they could all accept Squall’s earlier conviction as written, execute the Baroness, shut down the whole sorry affair and Seifer could be home again in Galbadia well in time for tea. But contrary to Squall’s supposed wishes that was not going to happen.  
Seifer went to the castle ramparts to cool his head and sooth his tired eyes. It was chilly up here and the late autumn day had a cold grey tinge which cast everything in a pallid light. He closed his eyes as he leant on the rampart wall and asked himself a question he had asked himself over and over for the past two weeks: “If I suddenly came into a lot of money, what would I spend it on?”  
Truth be told this was a question he found difficult to answer. As one of only two Dukes in Galbadia Seifer already had more money than most people would even dream of. He spent lavishly, invested huge sums of money into the military, alms-giving and hosting charity events for this and that. He enjoyed the very best quality food and wine, wore the best clothes and surrounded himself with finery. He kept his home and lands in impeccable condition and had never once managed to drive his estate into a deficit. To ask a man who had more money than you could shake a stick at what he would do if he suddenly found himself with a lot of money one day could only be described as a stupid question.  
The only things Seifer could really think of which a man of the Baron’s modest income might be interested in were land for future investment, or jewels or luxury goods for financial insurance or personal enjoyment. There was no evidence that the Baron had bought any of either since his smuggling started. There was only one large investment at the very beginning of when the smuggling started and that was the renovation of the gardens at the Trepe manor. Seifer had got a good look at the gardens when he visited the manor in person two weeks previously and could attest to their grandeur, but this investment had been made just over a year ago and there was no evidence that the Baron had done anything similar since; going by the somewhat outdated and worn interior of the manor itself he had never got around to giving his home the same treatment as the gardens. The rest of the family’s expenses, dresses and general outgoings fit comfortably into the Baron’s legal income.  
Standing here on the rampart the only conclusion Seifer could come to was that the Baron hadn’t spent the money he gained from the guns or opium on anything. But why not? And where did he put it if he didn’t spend it?  
These questions were extremely puzzling.  
Seifer rubbed a hand over his eyes. As he did this the tell tale clang of the cast iron gate across the dungeon doorway heralded the arrival of the Baroness; she was being led in handcuffs across the courtyard to the castle.   
“So, My Lady,” Seifer began as Baroness Quistis Trepe finished the last of her supper - potatoes and lambs liver broth, commoners’ fair - “Have you given my proposal any more thought?”  
She wiped the corners of her mouth daintily on the handkerchief handed to her by Mrs Kramer. “I have.”  
“And, may I have your ascent?”  
“I appreciate the gesture of the bath and the meal and the clean clothes and bedding,” said the Baroness with a decidedly haughty tone, “so I will agree to answer whatever questions I can. However, in the event that any of my information proves useful I would also like to be able to request something of you in return.”  
The Duke raised an eyebrow at this. “I’m interested as to why you feel that you are in any position to barter with me, My Lady.”  
“Because you seem to think that I am of some use to your investigation, if it weren’t the case you wouldn’t persist in asking me for my assistance.”  
He raised the other eyebrow. If before she had been a wild and howling banshee then here she was the perfect lady, cold and refined and proud.  
“I have already offered you food and clothes and a clean bed and a bath,” He said, “What makes you think that your assistance is worth any more than that?”  
“Nothing,” She said coolly, “After all I knew nothing about the crimes I have been accused of so what possible use could I be? It is you who seems to believe that I know things which are useful to your investigation. For the things you have already offered I am willing to offer you my co-operation and answer your questions as truthfully as I can but I don’t expect any of it to be useful.”  
“Then why ask for a reward if it is?”  
“Why not? I have nothing to lose it if isn’t and a reward might make me sweeter.”  
Seifer had agreed to these terms and so far the Baroness had definitely been a lot more polite and had appeared to all to at least be putting a lot of thought into her answers when questioned, it was what had lead Seifer to looking into the renovation of the manor gardens as the most expensive thing the Baron had invested in for years. But the information she was able to provide was extremely limited. She was able to provide great detail about the contacts in Wutai as she had been there personally and had met her father’s friends face to face on multiple occasions (with the exception of the shogun himself). The details she was able to provide about her father’s business dealings in Balamb however… non existent. As Mrs Kramer had said, the ladies of the household did not appear to have any involvement with Baron Trepe’s business. It was a dead end.  
With narrowed eyes Seifer watched as the Baroness disappeared into the castle, no doubt on her way to being interrogated by Leonhart. Quite apart from her attitude towards Seifer’s questioning, towards Squall she had been noticeably discordial. Perhaps the execution of her family at the nonchalant say-so of the Earl still cast a shadow over her head? In any case their conversations usually dissolved into staring contests in which the Baroness's icy countenance usually won out. Squall would sit in stoney silence, expression growing steadily darker under that cold gaze until he dismissed her with a quiet tone and an irritable flick of his pen upon his papers.  
Assuming that today’s appointment would follow along much the same lines Seifer set out to join them in Squall’s office. No sooner than he arrived however than there was a knock on the door.  
“Come in,” Seifer said, settling himself against Squall’s desk. The Baroness sat cuffed to the chair opposite with her guard behind her. A young lad was led in by one of the castle guards, he was glistening with sweat and had a skinny, grubby appearance.  
“Pardon me, my Lords,” The guard introduced the boy, “This lad arrived at the gate not long ago shouting about there being a murder. I thought it best to show him in.”  
“A murder, boy?” Seifer asked as Squall dismissed the guard.   
“Yessir,” said the lad who swept off his flat cap with a purple hand. “A big one. There’s lots of bodies up in the dye ponds by Wescrick, Sir.”  
“‘Lots of bodies’?” Seifer echoed, “How many?”  
“I don’t rightly know, Sir. We were emptying the old vats into the pond when one of them fell into the water and when we fished ‘er out up came a body. We dragged ‘im out and ‘e was tied to another one, and another one tied to that. The foreman said we ought to tell the castle, so up I came, Sir.”  
“And you came straight here?” Squall asked, brow furrowed.  
“Quick as a flash, Sir.”  
“Tell anyone?”  
“No Sir, could ‘ardly talk for running, Sir.”  
Seifer and Squall exchanged pensive looks. The lad stood and watched them and mopped his brow with his cap a few times. After a little silent communication Seifer stood up and shrugged, “I guess we better go see.”  
In the chair Quistis rolled her eyes.  
“Take the prisoner back to her cell,” Squall said to the Baroness’s attending guard, and stood up to put his jacket on. It had been draped over the back of his chair. “We'll continue the interrogation tomorrow.”  
As the Baroness was led away the boy watched her go. Seifer watched him. “Beautiful isn’t she?” He said to the boy as if praising a particularly fine horse.  
“She is.” Agreed the boy, sounding ever so slightly starry-eyed.  
Squall let out a derisive snort as he tucked a notepad and pen into his coat pocket, “Don’t let her face fool you, woman’s as treacherous as they come…”  
With an unhappy sigh the lad led the way out of the castle and to the gate where they had a carriage brought around for their trip to the dye ponds in Wescrick, or West Creek as it was properly known as.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone messages me to tell me my grammar is appalling and they can't understand what's being said - the character is working-class country-bred, he's meant to speak like that.

1860 - Chapter 5.

Wescrick, or West Creek as was its proper name, was a village with a long history in dye making. Built on the meeting place of two rivers, one a quiet shallow bottomed stream and the other a major waterway taking boats two and from Balamb harbour and the capitol of Balamb, also named Balamb, it was the perfect place for river crossings and thus the perfect place for business. What had once been a small collection of huts was now a major village with a bustling (though extremely specialised) economy that revolved mostly around the making and dying of various grades of cloth. Most of the village’s inhabitants worked in the dye trade and so, when Duke Almasy and Earl Leonhart and the young had who had been sent out to fetch them arrived at the dye ponds to inspect the scene they found the place alive with many curious faces.  
It was quickly established that none of the bodies being dragged from the dye ponds just off the peaceful stream and laid in the grass belonged to the villagers. They were all of them bright blue and swollen from having been submerged in the ponds for a time. There was an awful smell in the air and both nobles held handkerchiefs to their noses. A doctor had already been sent for from Balamb harbour but they had yet to arrive. While waiting for people of authority to arrive it was the foreman of the dye ponds who had been trying to control the area and he approached Seifer and Squall now.  
“Welcome, Sirs,” Said the foreman, taking off his hat with a relatively clean paw, “I’m John Shaw, I’m the foreman at these ponds.”  
“Hello Mr Shaw,” Greeted Seifer from behind his handkerchief. He nodded in the direction of the bodies lined up in the grass. “Any idea who they are? We understand they’re not any of yours.”  
“No sir, not mine, I don’t know who they are. It was quite the shock to find them there, I tell you.”  
Seifer nodded, “I can imagine.”  
Squall begin a careful advance up the line, looking at the faces and clothing of the bodies. They were tied together by their hands and feet. Seifer continued, “Can you tell us what happened?”  
The foreman rubbed his beard, then pointed over his shoulder to the ponds which were dark with old dye, so black that it would have been impossible to see the bottom. Around a dozen large vats sat nearby, some of them empty.  
“We were emptying the old vats into these ponds, as we do every month, when Tom - that’s the lad there - dropped his and it fell into the pond. The ponds aren’t all that deep, only about a meter mind, so we went in to fetch it and one of the lads - Harry there - almost fell over something, thought it was a log. Well we don’t want logs or bits of rubble clogging up our ponds, it’s hard enough to drain them as it is, so we set to dragging the thing out. Came up with a leg - we thought it was one of the village boys had gone in drunk one night so we pulled him out and he came out with a load of rope around his arms and rocks tied to him. Well, soon as we saw that I said to Tom he better get up to the castle and tell you Gentlemen we got a murder down here. Hadn’t hardly got the words out of my mouth before a shout goes up that they’ve got another. Pretty soon we had a whole string of them, and there they all are, lined up like bright blue kippers in the sun.” John Shaw shook his head at the line of bright blue kippers. “I’m damn sure they ain’t none of mine although I’ve no idea where they’ve come from. Got some sort of symbols on their hands but that’s all I can tell.”  
Seifer frowned. Symbols?  
He moved over to the bodies and, using his handkerchief, turned over one of the men’s hands. There on the back just above the wrist was something written in Wutian script. But these did not look like Wutian men, they had the look of native Balambians. There was something else as well, they were all wearing the same sort of clothing, heavy, rough shirts and thick workman’s slacks.  
“They’re all got this symbol on them.” Squall said as he approached. “Nothing in their pockets, no identifiers anywhere else.”  
The two men stood side by side and looked at the bodies. “Do you get a lot of dead bodies?” Seifer asked Mr Shaw after a while.  
“We get a few,” the foreman replied scratching his beard, “Not that many and usually only drunks. We’ve never had anything like this before.”  
“Does anyone watch these ponds?”  
“I oversee the workers.”  
“And you didn’t notice anyone depositing a dozen corpses?”  
“Well,” Mr Shaw harrumphed, “I certainly didn’t notice anything, but I can tell you it’s no one here in the village.”  
“And how do you know that?” Squall asked skeptically.  
“Because there’s not a one in the village is going to want to come across a body in their pond! My Lord, I know these men and women and I can tell you there’s not a murder among them, certainly not one as could kill and hide 12 men none of us has ever even heard of before.”  
Seifer let out a sigh. Mr Shaw was probably right. This wasn’t a city or a large conurbation, it was a village made up of working-class men and women, more concerned with earning their bread and beer than doing away with a large group of fit young men. If there was a mass murderer among them they would certainly have given themselves away by now; there was absolutely nowhere to hide in a community like this.  
At that moment the doctor arrived from Balamb harbour, she was a short fat woman with long grey hair tied up in a bun, a long brown coat, leather doctor’s bag and wearing pantaloons. Most unusual. The undertaker followed along behind her. He was a tall thin rake of a man who never said a word.  
The doctor greeted the two Gentlemen, introducing herself as Doctor Kadowaki, before going immediately to the bodies in the grass. She inspected them each through a pair of pince nez, turning their hands over in her own gloved paws, humming at the Wutian symbols and tutting at the poor condition of the bodies and their colour. She poked at their swollen faces and bulging eyes, peeked under their collars and frowned at the dye ponds, then stood up.  
“These men have been strangled to death.” She said.  
“How do you know?”  
“The bleeding in their eyes and their skin, there are little tiny spots all over the skin and there is bruising around their necks.”  
Seifer and Squall peered at the bodies, still nonethewiser for the information because they all looked to be just as blue all over.  
“I need to inspect them closer so I will take them to the morgue and look at them properly there.” She pulled off her gloves and gave the undertaker a pointed look. He moved forward to begin preparing the bodies for transportation back to Balamb harbour; a small river-fairing vessel sat not far off.  
“There was a symbol on their wrists,” Seifer said, indicating the location on his own wrist. “Do you know what it was?”  
“Yes,” Doctor Kadowaki said, “It is a mark made on prisoners, like a label to tell you where they are from. These men are all prisoners of war native to Balamb.”  
“Prisoners of-” Seifer was surprised.  
“What are they doing here?” Squall asked.  
“I can’t tell you that,” Doctor Kadowaki said with a smile, “That’s your job to work out.”  
Some time later when the bodies had disappeared on their way to the Balamb harbour morgue and Mr Shaw had been given strict instructions to guard the ponds night and day and report anything unusual to the castle, Squall and Seifer were on their way back to the castle. They stared grimly out of the carriage windows as it rattled away.  
Prisoners of war… Prisoners of the Wutian war for whom no official arrangements or agreements had been met… Prisoners of the Wutian war whose return to Balambian soil was a heated topic of debate at every political council meeting and who occupied the primary spot at the top of every foreign political agenda… Prisoners of the Wutian war who should by all accounts be sat in a Wutian prison awaiting their fate but who, for some as yet unexplained reason, had found themselves strangled to death and weighted down at the bottom of a pitch black pool in their native Balamb without anyone even knowing they had returned…  
“Do you have any idea what-”  
“No.” Came the short reply.  
Squall was annoyed. No, he didn't have any idea what the fuck was going on. They were meant to be investigating drug dealing, but so far it seemed had hit upon everything but! Now they knew that these men were from Wutai there was no doubt in his mind that they were tied to the opium case and Baron Trepe, but how? And why? What did prisoners of war have to do with opium? And how were they in Balamb? It didn’t take much thinking to come to the conclusion that they had been smuggled into the country, but for what purpose? Just to kill them off? It seemed a little odd to go through all the trouble and risk of getting caught just to use them as fodder to clog up a dye pond… Would Baron Trepe do that?  
“We need to go through all the papers again and see if there’s anything in them about prisoners of war.”  
“He’s not going to be that stupid, even the guns were thinly disguised as bottles of sake and we had to sort through weeks of paperwork to match up the dimensions and weights etc. to work that out.” Seifer dismissed the idea.  
“A new workforce then. Maybe he killed them all when it was obvious he would get caught.”  
“Maybe…” Seifer muttered, thinking. “You go through the papers and see what you can find and I’ll take the Baroness, see what she’s got to say about it. She went to Wutai after all.”  
“…” Squall nodded in assent at the plan, though not entirely convinced the Duke wasn’t simply stealing an excuse to speak to the Baroness alone for a while.  
When they arrived back at the castle they went their separate ways, Squall to the office and Seifer to the dungeon, with the tentative agreement to talk about it over tea later on, if such a civilized proposal was possible between the two men.  
****  
At the sound of approaching footsteps Quistis pricked up her ears. Truth be told she was quite interested to hear of this murder, it was nice sometimes to hear of someone else's troubles as a means of escaping from ones own and, being as her own troubles included no less than the condemnation and execution of her entire family, she felt she was entitled to a little escapism. She hoped that she would be given the opportunity to ask a few questions of her own when she was fetched for her next interrogation.  
She was a little surprised then when it was not her usual guard who arrived at the cell door to fetch her but Duke Almasy himself with a stool in hand. The two would-be-detectives preferred to conduct their interrogations from the comfort of Squall’s commandeered office and it had been a while since either of them had deigned to make the trip down to Quistis’ very, very, very humble abode.  
“I expected that would take far longer.” She said conversationally, not hiding her interest in the least, “But it’s barely been a few hours. Was it not as exciting as you expected?”  
“Much more exciting even than that.” Duke Almasy smirked as he perched on his stool. “It’s certainly raised more than a few new questions about you and your father.”  
She blinked. Already she didn’t like where this was going.  
The Duke continued, “Imagine our surprise to find you mixed up in the deaths of a dozen young men from all over the country - how very exciting indeed.”  
“What?” She blinked at him again, not impressed or even slightly amused. “I don’t know what you’re talk about but I haven’t killed any young men.”  
“No?” The Duke asked appearing for his part to be most entertained by the situation, “Then how come you and they all share one very important thing in common?”  
“And what is that?” she asked waspishly.  
“You were all in Wutai together, probably broke bread and traded ‘sake’” He indicated with his fingers, “Spinning them a web of lies before you sold them down the river on a merry ride from hell. I want to know how you did it.”  
She gave him the most disgusted look she could muster and crossed her arms over her chest, “Oh for goodness sake,” She snapped at him, “Do you have to see my involvement in everything that happens around here? If you see someone cough in the street will you say I bought the plague as well?”  
“Well, you did bring a sort of pestilence, didn’t you.” He said jovially, smiling.  
She was appalled. Though she didn’t exactly have a positive opinion of the Duke she had at least thought him preferable to the Earl because he didn’t seem quite so sold on her portrayal as Elizabeth Bathory as Squall was, but now it seemed he had the potential to be even more hateful!  
“Are you being serious?” She asked, not convinced. His cheeriness almost looked like teasing but she couldn’t be sure, it might just be his infuriating attitude and his unquenchable love of torturing the sensibilities of his fellows (though such behaviour was thankfully usually reserved for the Earl).  
He shrugged, still smiling, “It’s not like I really believe you did the deed yourself, but we know they’re connected to you in some way. I just want to know how.”  
“Well who are they, for a start?”  
“Don’t you know?”  
“No, I don’t know!” She snapped again, “If you’re not going to ask sensible questions then I won’t entertain you!”  
After some glowering the Duke gave a wry chuckle, but conceded. He held up his hand under her piercing gaze. “Alright, my Lady, I understand, you may relent your assault on my conscience. The victims were Balambian prisoners of war, meant to be being imprisoned in Wutai.”  
Wutai… Quistis had to admit that on hearing this even she would be inclined to suspect herself if she didn’t know any better. But prisoners of war…?  
“I never met with any prisoners of war during my stay at Wutai.” She said, “You’ve already seen my itinerary.”  
The Duke nodded, “I did, but that doesn’t mean that you didn’t verbally arrange to transfer prisoners of war to Balamb.”  
“Well I didn’t,” She said again, “I don’t even think anyone I spoke to had anything to do with the prisoner of war camps so it isn’t something we would have discussed. My father also never had any interest in the prisoners of war.” She thought and tapped her chin for a moment. “Actually no, that’s not quite right, he would talk about them sometimes and about how the King was doing what he could to bring them home. But I don’t think my father had any direct involvement with foreign politics, he was more concerned with trade.”  
“Did he talk about his hires and whether any ex-POWs were among them?”  
“No, I don’t recall him ever speaking about his employees. The employment records should be in his accounts ledger if you wanted to look.”  
“Earl Leonhart is looking through them right now.” The Duke said, “I was hoping you could tell me more about people you met in Wutai. Was there any talk about bringing men over from Wutai to work?”  
“No.” She shook her head.  
“Was there any talks about releasing the POWs to-”  
“There wasn’t any conversation about prisoners of war at all, Your Grace.” Quistis said calmly but firmly. “As I have told you many times before, I was on a sight-seeing trip and to visit a few of my father’s acquaintances.”  
“And as I have told you many times before there is much more to this than you are letting on.” Duke Almasy said emphatically. “Those dead men and your father’s illegal business are connected to one another, there is too much here to be called a simple coincidence.”  
“I am aware of how it looks, Your Grace, but I can promise you that I never saw or heard anything about any prisoners of war during my time in Wutai, and even if I had, my father was a shrewd man who cared a lot. He would not have killed off a group of men for no reason!”  
“You said the same thing about his gun-running and I proved you wrong.”  
“But Daddy was not a murderer.” Quistis repeated, exasperated. “Besides which he was killed weeks ago, as were my mother and sister and I’ve been locked up in here the whole time so he can’t have done it and nor can I. How do you know that these men weren’t killed by someone else? If you managed to miss this then I’m sure there are plenty of crooks running about that you don’t know about.”  
“Like I said, it’s too big a coincidence for it to be unconnected.”  
“But my father is dead.” Quistis said again. He looked at her expressionlessly. She could feel herself becoming upset again at the thought that her poor father, though it was becoming apparent that he was not the saint she thought he was, was being accused of murder. Normally one would assume that things like murder and smuggling went hand in hand and if you had asked her a year ago Quistis would have been inclined to agree, but now that it concerned her own family she wanted to draw a line between them. Just because one was a smuggler did not mean that one was a murder too and vice versa. To assume that her father was a killer without any evidence felt unjust, dirty, a further disgrace to his poor name… She looked away from the Duke’s fathomless gaze.  
It felt unfair and she felt unhappy and alone again. She had been lowly recovering herself from the shock of the execution and had been doggedly trying to make herself feel better by being useful, letting go of her ire towards the Duke at least in the hope that he might see her as good and not the evil thing Earl Leonhart - darling Squall - insisted she was, but this fresh accusation felt like a regression. Who was she fooling? They all saw her as a traitor, nothing in her soul left to salvage.  
****  
She looked pitiful, Seifer had to admit. She was stood with her shoulders slightly hunched, holding one of her arms in an insecure manner and would no longer meet his eyes. She looked disappointed and bitter again although at what he didn’t know. Their conversation, while not as enlightening as he had hoped because she still insisted she knew as little about this as she did everything else they had asked her about, did affirm a couple of his own suspicions. Or at least, it confirmed that he wasn’t incorrect to be suspicious about it. Baron Trepe had been dead and in the ground for three weeks now. Had the men in the ponds been dead that long their flesh would have started sloughing away by now and small creatures would have eaten portions, but aside from the bloating the bodies appeared to be in remarkable condition. Not to mention they would have been discovered before now had they been there for more than three weeks. They would know more when Doctor Kadowaki had had time to inspect them properly, however it seemed unlikely that they would have died while Baron Trepe was alive, and the Baroness had been under lock and key so she was not the culprit. Whatever bait he had used to goad her before, Seifer didn’t really believe that the young woman before him now had the strength to order a hit on a dozen men from a dingy prison cell. But who did?  
As ever, more questions and very few answers.


End file.
